He suddenly felt achingly lonely and overwhelmed.
“Don’t you dare turn the truck around,” he said to himself. “You can’t just show up at a woman’s house at dinnertime, hoping she’ll feed you.”
In exchange for unloading her U-haul, the other voice said indignantly.
The kind of thing a white knight might do, except a real knight wouldn’t expect dinner.
Sighing, recognizing all life turned on a hair, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it, Evan Atkins slowed, stopped and turned his truck around.
He told himself that she looked like the kind of woman who might know a thing or two about potty-training.